


Aperture Desserts

by AlexandrianSight



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bakery AU, GLaDOS is a shady bakery owner, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:24:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8033092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandrianSight/pseuds/AlexandrianSight
Summary: "Any aspiring baker worth their salt in northern Michigan knew about Aperture Desserts and its legendary history."
Aperture Desserts is the most renowned bakery in northern Michigan, famous for its experimental desserts. But while its desserts are excellent, the company itself has an air of mystery surrounding it. No customer has ever seen the owner/head baker and the employees seem too scared to give out any real information on her.Chell has just landed an internship at the prestigious bakery and is very eager to work and learn all that she can. However, the absence of her supposed mentor has her suspicious. How is she supposed to learn with no teacher? Why will no one say anything about her? Why did she leave instructions in the form of voice recordings?Also, what's with the rivalry with Black Mesa Bread?





	1. A Cruel Sense of Humor

Five in the morning was too early.

Chell fruitlessly tucked her hair behind her ears in an attempt to prevent the wind from whipping it into her face. She should’ve put her hair up earlier.

She felt awkward and suspicious standing outside the back door of a bakery this early in the morning. More than that, she felt cold and tired. Michigan autumns were gorgeous, sure, but they were cold. She moved her hair from her face again before taking another sip of coffee.

Chell sighed and checked her phone again. It was 5:10. The email she’d received said to be here by 5 and that one of the employees would be here to let her in. She looked around, hoping to see someone. She put her phone away with another sigh and sipped her coffee as her stomach rumbled. If she’d known there was no need to rush, she would’ve grabbed breakfast.

She shivered due to a combination of cold, caffeine-induced jitters, and nerves.

She couldn’t believe she’d landed an internship at _the_ Aperture Desserts. One of the most renowned bakeries in the city, if not the whole surrounding county. Aperture had a reputation as one of the most high-quality bakeries in the state, even though some of their desserts were a bit...experimental.

Chell knew all about Aperture. Any aspiring baker worth their salt in Northern Michigan knew about Aperture and its legendary history. Founded in 1947 by aspiring chemist Cave Johnson, Aperture Science had started off as a small lab. Somewhere along the way, Cave realized that his lack of a degree in chemistry as well as his knack for baking meant that he couldn’t last as a chemist. So, he changed the name to Aperture Desserts, bought industrial-sized baking equipment, and the rest was history.

Of course, no one could speak of Cave Johnson’s success without giving commendation to Caroline, his world-class assistant baker. Not only was she a master of temperamental delicacies such as macarons and souffles, but she was also the mastermind behind Aperture’s business plan. Cave had often referred to her as the “backbone of this confectionery.” She had even saved the bakery from bankruptcy during the [ milk recall ](http://greatlakesecho.org/2010/06/04/poisoning-michigan-an-author-revisits-the-most-widespread-contamination-30-years-later/) in the 1970s.

The two worked hard to build up the company and Aperture soon became known for its delicious delicacies and experimental desserts. In spite of its success, though, Cave never attempted to make it into a franchise. He claimed doing so would ruin the company’s rarity.

Of course, the fairy tale couldn’t last forever. Cave tragically met his fate due to an attempt to replace flour with moon rock powder in his (previously) renowned Conversion Cupcakes. He fell ill after testing one of the cupcakes and passed away mere months later, leaving only Caroline to inherit the bakery. The cupcakes were never made again.

Aperture shut down for more than a month afterwards, but its doors were eventually reopened by Caroline. She worked hard for the next few years, doing everything she could to keep up morale and success in honor of her boss.

Unfortunately, she too met a tragic fate. On a trip to a baker’s conference down in Lansing, Caroline was mugged and badly injured. Her age prevented her from recovering and she died a few days later in a hospital far from home. Aperture shut its doors once more with no known intention to reopen them.

Until three years ago.

A woman claiming to be the daughter of the one and only Cave Johnson bought the bakery from its still-grieving owners. A few months later, Aperture reopened with almost entirely new staff and new direction. One new aspect of the business was an interning program for bakers who needed experience.

Which led to present-day Chell standing out in the cold before the sun was even up. She continued searching through the dim, grey morning light for anyone who could be coming.

She checked her phone again. 5:15. She groaned and leaned against the wall, wondering if she’d been cruelly pranked by someone. Of course, the email _had_ come from the company’s official email, so she sincerely hoped this wasn’t true. She couldn’t think of anyone that she’d angered so much that they’d go to the lengths of hacking into the email of the company she was hoping to get a job from. Although, maybe it was one of the employees who had done so.

Or maybe the owner herself had a cruel sense of humor.

With a huff, Chell drained the last of her coffee and looked around for a trash can. Once she’d tossed it, she was able to use both free hands to tie her hair up in a ponytail. Her coat made moving her arms difficult, and her now-exposed neck caused her to shiver. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes, embracing death.

Just then, she heard the clatter of someone bumping into something. She opened her eyes to see a skinny white man rushing towards her, though there didn’t seem to be any objects that he could’ve bumped into. His appearance was disheveled and he was holding a coffee mug rather than a to-go cup, which was sloshing and spilling all over the place as he jogged. He looked like he was being swallowed whole by his coat that was much too large for him.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” He said in a British accent. “It’s just - can you hold this for a second, gotta get the keys - I woke up late, of course. Waking up before the crack of dawn isn’t the easiest thing, you know? So, of course, being up this early, I decide coffee’s the best option, keeps you awake. So, I’m already late- oh, where are my keys?”

He rifled around in his coat and pants pockets as he spoke. Chell gingerly held the mug that had coffee all over it. He finally found them and pulled them out with an “Aha!” before continuing his story as he fiddled with the lock.

“I’m late as it is, so I decide to grab a coffee from Starbucks on my way here, right? Only I get to Starbucks and realize that they don’t open until five-thirty. Five-thirty! It’s ridiculous! Do they think no one could possibly need coffee before five-thirty in the morning?”

He finally unlocked the door and let the both of them in. He quickly locked the door again behind them, took the mug back, and turned on the light.

“‘Let there be light,’” He said with a satisfied grin. When Chell didn’t respond, his face fell and he rushed to explain. “That’s, uh…God. I was quoting God.”

When she still didn’t respond, he continued his story. “Now, coffee was a _necessity_ . You probably don’t know this but I don’t _usually_ wake up this early to get here. But someone had to be here to let you in and show you the ropes, and I drew the short stick, of course. So I had to rush back home and make myself some coffee, making myself even more late, and keeping you waiting. Again, sorry about tha- what?”

He had led her out of a tiny hallway/mudroom and into the kitchen, stopping when he realized she was no longer following him, but standing with her arms crossed and an irritated look on her face.

She pointed with her thumb to a coffee maker sitting on the table next to her.

“Oh,” He said. “Right. I… _completely_ forgot about that…” He trailed off, looking embarrassed. After a moment, he took a deep breath and looked up at her. “Really sorry about that. But! What matters is that we’re out of the cold now, and today’s your very first day as an intern here! I’m Wheatley, by the way,” he said, putting the mug down and sticking out a hand.

Chell eyed it for a moment before grasping it in a handshake. “Chell.”

“That’s a nice name,” He said. “Now, if you’ll follow me,” he led her out of the kitchen and towards the front room, which was still dark. He led her past the cases of desserts and stopped at the empty register counter.

“Every employee clocks in on this,” He reached under the counter and pulled out a tablet. “We each have a four-digit code to use. Yours is 1498. Go ahead and clock in.” He unlocked the tablet and opened the app.

Chell clocked in and waited while he did the same.

“Alright! Now, let’s go back to the kitchen so I can show you everything and you can get started.” He led her back through the kitchen to the mudroom-esque hallway and took off his coat. Underneath was a black t-shirt with a small white Aperture logo in the top left, tucked into his khakis. He turned to hang his coat on a wall hook, and Chell saw that on the back of the shirt was a larger Aperture logo that took up the top of the back.

“This is where we hang our coats,” He explained. “Any galoshes or other such footwear would go down below them. That’s a nice flannel.”

Chell had taken off her coat and was wearing an orange and grey flannel over a white tank top. She looked down at it before thanking him and hanging up her coat.

“And _this_ ,” he said, gesturing with open arms, “is the kitchen. This is where you’ll be…living. No, seriously. While we’re open, you’re _not_ allowed to go up front. Especially if we have customers. It’s for your own safety, really. If you go up there and a customer realizes that you’re a baker here, they’ll probably stop you and ask you loads of questions, trapping you up there for who knows how long and slowing you down, causing you to get behind on your baking and getting _her_ mad at you, which will lead to you getting fired and your reputation as a baker absolutely _shattered_.” He laughed awkwardly for a moment before stopping when he realized she wasn’t laughing as well. He cleared his throat. “Again, it’s for the best.”

He grabbed a binder from a shelf. “And here is the ol’ binder. _Loa_ _ds_ of recipes in here, including most of the experimental ones that Cave Johnson himself worked on. However, some of the instructions aren’t _quite_ clear. Don’t worry, though. Everyone knows how to bake pretty much anything in here, so you’d be able to get help from whoever you work with.”

He pointed at various things around the room as he named them. “Oven. Second oven. Third oven, though it’s rarely used. Prep table. Nut-free prep table. Small mixer. Medium mixer. Large mixer. _Extra_ large mixer, real pain to wash. Pantry. Equipment shelves. Microwave. Coffee maker (again, really sorry). Dough roller. Refrigerator. Freezer. Cooling racks. More cooling racks. Even _more_ cooling racks, although these are usually used for dirty sheet pans that won’t fit over by the sink. Dish sink. Hand sink.”

He pointed at what looked like a mirror built into the wall. “That’s one-way glass. On the other side is _her_ office. If you’re ever here at the same time as her, odds are she’ll be in there with the door locked. The door was in that little hallway we came through, dunno if you noticed. Any questions?”

“Wait,” Chell said, trying to process his rapid speech. “You said _‘if’_ I’m ever here at the same time as her?”

“Yes, indeed,” He answered cheerily.

“But I thought she was supposed to be teaching me,” Chell said. “How can she teach me anything if she’s not here?”

“Ah, I’m glad you asked,” Wheatley said with a smile. He gestured to what looked like a modified tablet on one of the prep tables. “ _That_ is a device that has _her_ voice recordings on it. There’s a menu you can scroll through to get to each one. She’s got stuff for nearly every situation. See, here’s the introduction one.”

He pressed play and a woman started speaking in a low, articulated voice. Her tone was cool and even, sounding almost robotic.

“Welcome to Aperture Desserts. You must be the new baking intern. If you were lucky enough to be selected as an intern, I’m sure you must already know that your time spent here will be _very_ rewarding. I am the owner and head baker. However, during your time here you will be doing most, if not all, of the baking. This full-immersion program is set up so that inexperienced bakers like you can dive right into the world of running a bakery with little to no consequences. Well, the consequences depend on how well you do. If you’re lucky, you’ll rarely see me. If you’re _not_ lucky, well…” Her tone hinted at something dangerous. “You’ll find out.”

The recording ended and Chell stood there for a moment, letting everything register in her brain. “Voice recordings.”

“Yep,” Wheatley said.

She raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath. “Well, that’s a new one.”

“It comes in quite handy, really,” He said. “This way, she doesn’t have to re-explain everything to every new baker that comes in. Now,” He picked up a piece of paper from on top of the microwave. “This is a list of everything that we’re low on, ranked by urgency. This list is made by whoever closed the night before. Breakfast items will _always_ be at the top. We change those out every day even if we have leftovers. The top of the list should always have cinnamon rolls, then croissants, then chocolate croissants. If that’s not how it’s arranged, you need to make them in that order anyway. Of course, depending on who closed the night before, the list might not be in _proper_ order. That’s the schedule over there on the wall, so you can always double-check who closed the night before. You’ll learn quickly who can and can’t be trusted.”

Chell turned to where he was pointing behind her and saw a very large dessert-themed calendar hanging up on the wall, with names and shift times marked on each day in perfect block handwriting.

“Luckily for you,” He continued. “Virgil closed last night. He’s our best and highest-ranking employee. He’s a bit of an older fellow, but he’s absolutely hilarious,” He chuckled. “He was actually an employee back when Caroline was running the place. The only one who got his old job back. Now,” He opened the binder, which was organized with dividers. He flipped to the breakfast section. “Here’s the recipe for the cinnamon rolls. I’ll be back here to help you out until about seven. That’s when I have to start opening up the front. Do you know what our hours are?”

“Uh-”

He cut her off. “We open at eight on weekdays, ten on Saturdays, and noon on Sundays. You’re always supposed to be here _at least_ three hours early so that you have plenty of time to do everything. You don’t have a designated time to clock out, just whenever you’ve finished with this list. Oh, and any orders that might be scheduled for that day.”

“Orders?” Chell asked.

“Yeah, you know,” He gestured. “Special orders. Things like birthday cakes, wedding cakes...whole cakes in general, really. You wouldn’t believe how many people think we have whole cakes just ready to sell at any time. I mean, this isn’t a Dairy Queen. We sell by the slice.”

He turned and pulled a cling-wrapped sheet pan out of the fridge. On it was a flat pastry dough. He unwrapped it and started speaking again.

“Of course, special orders can be things that are more interesting, like two dozen cannolis. Oh, one time, she had to make a wedding cake out of cannolis! Man, that was quite the day… Oh, forgot to wash my hands…” He trailed off when he saw that Chell had rolled up her sleeves and started washing her hands.

“Oh! Almost forgot,” he washed and dried his hands and went back to the back hallway. He returned with a white apron, which he gave to Chell. She didn’t like wearing aprons and frankly didn’t care if she got anything on her clothes, but she folded it in half and tied it around her waist anyway.

“That’s a different way of wearing it,” Wheatley commented. “Anyway, this is the pastry for the cinnamon rolls.”

The two worked for a while, Wheatley guiding her through everything. She made the cinnamon rolls and both croissants before she could tackle anything else on the list. The next item was Aperture’s signature black forest cake, which they had apparently run out of the night before.

“Right, just to warn you, you’ll _probably_ have to make another one sometime before you leave. That one’s a top seller. Our most popular cake.”

“I’ve heard,” She said as she poured the flour into the medium mixer.

“Yeah, it’s even got its own weird internet trend. One time, a customer came in right after someone bought the last piece. He went ballistic, yelling at me, yelling at Rick. For a moment I was worried that _she_ was going to come up to the front, which would’ve made everything _much_ worse. Anyway, he shouted ‘the cake is a lie!’ and stormed out of here, can you believe it? Then, he ended up commenting that same thing on a one-star Google review, a one-star Yelp review, and in a comment on every single one of the company’s social media accounts. Most of our regulars found it funny, though, and now whenever they come in and we’re out of that cake, they say it as a sort of a joke. I mean, suppose it _is_ funny when you think about it…except those one-star ratings. She was _livid_ about those.”

Chell silently worked while he rambled on. She didn’t want to tell him that she already knew that story. Besides, it wasn’t like he was letting her get a word in edgewise, anyway.

He checked his phone. “Hup, seven-ten. Gotta get out there and start opening everything and brewing coffee.”

She gave him a cold look.

“The _customer’s_ coffee, I mean,” He said defensively. “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” He walked out before she could answer.

Chell turned on the mixer and watched it for a few moments before turning and consulting the recipe book again. She heard something fall to the floor in the other room.

“Agh! Bad idea, bad idea…” She heard Wheatley say to himself.

She sighed and shook her head before going back to the instructions. This was going to be a very...interesting job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand there you have it! That was chapter one. Please feel free to tell me what you think of it in the comments. Updates on this fic may not be very frequent, since I have not one but two series that are a bit higher priority. But! I am very excited about this fic and would really appreciate feedback! Thank you!
> 
> Become a [beta](mailto:schneeprinzessin24@gmail.com)  
> Support me on [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/alexandriansight)


	2. You're Not Very Conversational

Chell quietly frosted the Turret cookies, already used to the abnormality of her new job before the day had even finished. The cookies were oval in shape, and about as long as her pinkie finger. Wheatley had called them an “explosive favorite” during one of his rambles, probably referring to the pockets full of cherry ‘fizzy candies,’ which was the label on the box of generic Pop Rocks.

Her instructions were to cover the tops with white frosting, draw a dot in the middle with red frosting, then use black frosting to first pipe a circle around the dot, then a thin line down the middle. The design was a bit weird, but she didn’t question it.

She’d considered the possibility of an explanation being in one of her boss’s voice recordings, but decided she’d rather not listen to them. The few that she’d listened to earlier gave her an...unsettling feeling. The woman always sounded like she was threatening her with a slow, painful death.

She’d just started with the black frosting when she heard Wheatley say good-bye to some customers. A few moments later, he came back to do dishes, muttering some sort of complaint that Chell couldn’t hear. She ignored it, figuring that he would speak up if it bothered him enough.

She was right.

“I mean, I have to brew an _entire_ pot of decaf coffee just for someone who wants _one_ cup of it! It’s a waste!” He was speaking loudly, practically shouting over the sound of the sink. “And I try to ‘politely’ hint that I don’t want to do that, but do they ever care? No, no they don’t. They say, ‘Can I get some decaf coffee?’ And I say, ‘Well, we don’t _regularly_ brew it, so I’ll have to brew an _entire_ pot of it.’ And they just say ‘Okay, I can wait!’ in a cheery voice as though I was worried about inconveniencing _them._ It’s just-” He heaved a sigh. “No! I wasn’t worried about making you wait, I was worried about all the coffee you’re about to make me waste because absolutely _no one else_ is going to come in asking for decaf!”

Chell continued to work quietly while he ranted, only registering half of what he was saying.

“It’s just- It’s selfish, you know? People are so selfish sometimes!”

“Right,” Chell said. “Like when someone is selfish enough to make someone else wait in the cold for almost half an hour for no reason.”

The dish spray stopped and Wheatley turned and stared at her for a few moments, his expression blank. She continued working and pretended not to notice him.

“So I should just never mention coffee in front of you again, is that right?” He asked.

Just then, the door chimed, saving Chell from having to answer. Wheatley quickly dried his hands and rushed up to the front to greet the customers.

She sighed, took a moment to stretch her back, then continued working. These cookies were the last things on the list. She’d already made everything else as well as baked a few things in advance (including a second black forest cake) and she was looking forward to going home.

After a few moments, she finished the cookies and Wheatley came back.

“Just asking for directions…” He said.

Chell clapped her hands once and heaved a sigh. “Well, I’m done.” She took the tray and set it in one of the cooling racks. “The frosting just needs to set for a few minutes, then they’ll be ready to go.”

“Already?” Wheatley asked, grabbing the list. “But it’s only two. How’d you get everything done so fast?”

Chell shrugged. “I don’t know, it was all pretty easy.”

“ _Easy?!_ ” He asked incredulously. “B-but every other intern had such difficulty with our desserts! Wh-” He pulled the tray off the rack a little so he could examine her cookies. “Oh, God. Your cookies are _perfect_. Absolutely perfect, even the lines- Perfectly straight, every single one. Are you sure you’re inexperienced?”

“Yeah,” She responded, feeling a little weirded out. “I mean, other than my degree.”

“See, they all had that too, a degree…” He trailed off, still staring at her cookies. “It was the only prerequisite, the only thing she required…”

“Can I-” Chell stopped, slightly concerned by his behavior. “Can I clock out?”

“Hm?” He finally turned to face her, his eyebrows raised. “Oh yeah, yeah you don’t need to ask me, I’m not your superior,” he said dismissively.

Chell checked to make sure there was no one up front before using the tablet to clock out. She took a moment to actually look around the store. The theme was quite autumnal and cozy, with light beige coffee-colored walls and dark brown wall trim. Fitting inside a strip mall, the entire unit was deeper than it was wide. The front doors were made of glass and the front wall itself was comprised entirely of windows, allowing plenty of light in. Near the doors was a small counter holding the coffee station with four dispensers of different brews so that customers could pour their own coffee. There were six four-top tables, all with a shiny black finish that made them look like they were made of gemstone.

Chell was standing behind an L-shaped counter that enclosed the long side of the back corner, though most of the “counter” was actually the two long cases that held desserts. One was a case for regular items, such as cookies and brownies, and the other was a refrigerated case that held cakes, cupcakes, and anything else that needed to be kept cool. Only a small area was actual counter space, which was the register area.

There was more counter space behind her along the wall, with cabinets above and below. Shelves held white boxes in varying sizes that had the black Aperture logo on them. There was an espresso machine, different pumps for coffee flavors, and a refrigerator that held cold drinks.

Once she’d looked around enough, Chell returned to the kitchen and started to put on her coat.

“Oh oh oh, wait wait wait!” Wheatley said. “I forgot!” He handed her the keys. “These are technically yours. Since, you know, you get here the earliest. Gotta have keys so you can let yourself in, right?”

“I thought these were your keys,” She said.

“Me? Ha!” He laughed as though she’d said something hilarious. “Ohhhh, no. No, she would _never_ trust me with something so important. I got those yesterday and received _all sorts_ of threats about if I lost them or broke them or dissolved them in acid-”

“Wait, what?” Chell interrupted.

“Oh, she’s got _quite_ the imagination,” He explained. “And absolutely _no_ faith in me,” he chuckled as though this didn’t bother him.

“Well, what did you do, then?” She asked, bewildered. Wheatley was easily distracted and a bit self-centered, sure, but he seemed generally harmless.

“Hm? Oh, no, I didn’t do anything. She just genuinely doesn’t like me. I guess something about me just rubs her the wrong way. Not sure what it is, though.”

_I can’t imagine,_ Chell thought.

“Anyway, it’s almost a shame you’re done so early. A couple more hours and you would’ve gotten to meet Virgil. He’s taking over for night shift. Ah, well, I’m sure you’ll meet him eventually. Oh! By the way, we’re closed tomorrow.”

“Really?” Chell asked. “Why?”

“Because we’re always closed on Tuesdays.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Today’s Wednesday.”

He furrowed his brow. “Is it?” He thought for a moment before checking his phone. “So it is! Damn, that means I have to work tomorrow. I guess I’ll see you then!”

The door chimed and he quickly rushed to the front as she put on her coat. She was exhausted and starving, wondering if it would be worth it to grab something from a fast food joint nearby instead of cooking at home.

 

* * *

 

Chell got home to her apartment and immediately collapsed face down onto her bed, not even removing her coat. She laid there for a few moments, feeling fully capable of falling asleep right then and there. She quickly remembered the paper bag of greasy food in her hand, though, and immediately got up. She didn’t want grease on her bed.

She left her room and put the bag on one of her kitchen counters before removing her coat and putting it on the coat tree near her front door. She took her phone out of her pocket to check her notifications. Most of them were pointless things from random apps. She did have a few texts, though.

 

**Mari:** sooooo? how was the first day?

**Mari:** was it fun? exciting? boring?

**Mari:** oh no, don’t tell me

**Mari:** you hate your job, hate your boss, and now you wish youd never become a baker

**Chell:** nice try.

**Chell:** It was fine. One of my coworkers is kinda weird, though.

 

**Mari:** weird how?

**Chell:** He talks too much.

**Mari:** lmao you think everyone talks too much

**Mari:** you think i talk too much

**Chell:** You do.

 

Chell sat down at the table and started eating her food while she texted her friend, patiently answering all of her questions. No, she didn’t mess up. No, she didn’t set the bakery on fire. No, she didn’t meet her boss. No, her co-worker was not cute. No, she didn’t have a picture of him.

The burger was greasy and tasteless and Chell regretted getting it just like she knew she would. But she also knew she was too tired to put together a proper meal and probably would’ve grabbed something equally awful from her pantry.

Her phone dinged with another text. Even after all those questions, Mari still had more.

Chell sighed. She loved her friend, but right now she was just too tired. She quickly answered the question (No, she didn’t get to taste anything yet) and then immediately followed up with a text saying she was going to take a nap and that she’d text later.

She threw her trash away, changed into some sweats, and plugged her phone in to charge before climbing into bed. She picked up her phone to put it on silent and set an alarm for an hour from now and saw that Mari had texted her back with “okay! ttyl!”

Chell smiled and shook her head. Mari was the only person she knew who still used ‘ttyl’ unironically.

She put her phone down, stretched out in her bed, and rolled over, falling asleep easily.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Chell let herself in, feeling weird at the idea of being alone for a few hours when it was just her second day. She brushed the feeling aside and started working.

After a few minutes, though, she realized just how much she’d grown accustomed to Wheatley’s constant rambling yesterday. It was like white noise that she could tune out while she worked. Now, though, the silence seemed deafening.

She eyed the tablet full of voice recordings. Listening to them wouldn’t be quite the same, but maybe it would be enough.

She picked up the tablet and scrolled through it, searching for the entry on the Turret Cookies. She was still curious about the design.

She finally found it and pressed play. A woman’s voice started speaking and Chell set the tablet down and got back to work. She couldn’t help but think that the voice was actually some automated voice.

“The Turret Cookies have been on Aperture’s menu since the 1960s. They require Italian butter cookie dough, which you should know how to make if you call yourself a baker. However, if you are incompetent, you can find the recipe in the binder. Make sure to shape the cookies into small, skinny ovals before baking. When they are fresh out of the oven and still soft, use the tool to press three pockets into each cookie. After they have sufficiently cooled, fill the pockets with…’fizzy candies.’ Then cover the pockets with our edible circular stickers so as to smooth out the surface and prevent any liquid from activating the candy prematurely. Cover the tops with a white frosting, then use black and red frosting to pipe on the design you should be able to see in the picture in the recipe. You may have noticed that many of our desserts have a scientific theme to them. That’s because even after becoming a baker, Cave Johnson still had a fondness for science. These cookies are based off of a schematic he had for a sentry turret that could be placed in nurseries to protect small children. His idea was not popular. But his cookies are.”

Chell sighed in resignation as the voice recording ended and decided not to listen to any more. Unlike Wheatley, her voice demanded attention, making it harder for Chell to focus on her work.

She had been working alone for a couple hours in the morning silence when she was startled by a loud knock on the back door, which she had locked behind her earlier.

She peeked down the little hallway to see Wheatley standing outside the glass door in his massive coat. He gave an excited little wave as he shivered. Chell moved closer to the door and stood with her arms crossed, staring at him with a deadpan expression.

His face fell and he shouted so she could hear him through the door. “Oh, come on! Please let me in!”

She didn’t respond.

“Agh! Okay, okay, I get it. Haha, nice revenge on little Wheatley. Give ‘im a taste of his own medicine, right? Well! Joke’s on you, because I need to get in there and start opening up the store! And if I’m late on that, then _she_ will find out and get mad at-” He stopped for a moment, realizing his mistake. “...me. Okay, she’ll get mad at me, not you. Just-” He sighed. “Please open the door.”

Chell turned around and started walking away.

“Oh, just open the door!” He shouted. His voice lowered to where she could barely hear it. “No, that’s too aggressive.” He cleared his throat and spoke up again. “Hello, friend! Why not open the door?”

She continued ignoring him, leaving so that he couldn’t see her anymore.

“Oh, come on, please? I’ve learned my lesson, I promise!”

Chell sighed, knowing she couldn’t keep being petty. She went back and unlocked the door for him.

“Oh, thank you, thank you so much,” Wheatley said as he rushed in before violently shivering.

Chell moved to lock the door behind him.

He eyed her for a moment. “Do you own anything other than flannels and tank tops?”

She glanced down at the green flannel she was wearing. “Is my wardrobe an issue?”

“No! No,” He stammered, deciding not to comment on the fact that she wasn’t wearing an apron.

“Okay, then,” She replied, eyeing him. Standing next to him, she fully registered just how much shorter he was than her. Sure, she was kind of tall, and there was always that stereotype about British guys being short, but he seemed like he was only about 5’4”, maybe 5’5”. She turned and went back to work, deciding not to ask him about it in case it was a sensitive subject.

“You know,” He said as he struggled to take his coat off. “It occurs to me that you’re not very conversational. I did all the talking yesterday. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Even though it was true that Wheatley didn’t really give her much chance to talk yesterday, Chell really wasn’t much for conversation. Words weren’t her strong suit; she was much better equipped for expressing herself through actions and activity, such as baking. All of her friends knew this and never really expected much from her. This was a new environment, though, and she had to repress a sigh at the thought of being forced to awkwardly converse with who knows how many new co-workers.

“Such as?” She asked, not knowing where to start.

“Uhhm, where are you from?” He asked.

“I was born in Lansing.”

Wheatley nodded awkwardly. “Cool, cool...that’s...cool…” He cleared his throat. “Did you…grow up there?”

“No.”

He slowly nodded again, then raised his eyebrows as though prompting her to elaborate.

“We…moved all over the state for my dad’s work.”

“Ah!” He smiled. “Very interesting! Yes…” He trailed off. “Erm, what was his work?”

“Don’t you have a job to be doing?” She asked, starting to get irritated by the awkwardness of the conversation.

His eyes widened like he’d completely forgotten where he was. “Yes! Oh God, I’m late!” He said before rushing out to the front.

Chell shook her head in pity before returning to the chocolate she was chopping into flakes.

 

* * *

 

“Have a wonderful day!” Wheatley said, waving at the customers.

“Thanks, you too!”

“Thank youuuu,” He dragged out quietly, his arm slowly lowering. As soon as the door closed behind them, he dropped his smile and collapsed onto the counter, groaning. After a moment, he straightened up and stretched, enjoying the feeling. He’d had a steady stream of customers practically since he’d opened up shop, and he had quite a bit of fixing up to do before the next rush showed up. He wiped down the tables and restocked cups and boxes, humming a random tune all the while. He’d just grabbed the glass cleaner to clean the cases when he heard the door chime. He quickly stowed the cleaner in a cupboard before turning around with a smile.

“Hello! How are you, today?” He asked.

The girl who walked in looked very cheery and seemed fascinated by the bakery’s interior. She was young but seemed well-to-do in her business attire. Her nearly-black hair was glossy and fell past her shoulders, framing her tan face. She observed the bakery with wide, interested eyes. Her face lit up even more when he greeted her.

“I’m fantastic!” She replied excitedly. “How are you?”

“I’m…swell,” He replied, not knowing how to react to this girl. Most people didn’t seem completely overjoyed to be here. “What can I get for you?”

“Hmm,” She looked around a bit, observing the menu on the wall behind him, before leaning over the counter like she was about to tell him a secret.

She lowered her voice. “Can I get a _decaf_ coffee?”

Wheatley blanched. “Uh…” He stammered. “Well…”

She grinned and started giggling, standing up straight. “I’m kidding! Chell told me to ask you that if I wanted to mess with you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, so you know Chell.”

“Yup! We’re best friends!” She said cheerily. “Is she here? She told me she was working today but she might’ve just lied to me because she didn’t feel like talking. Well, she never feels like talking.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve noticed.” He took a breath. “Uh, yeah, she’s here but she’s a bit busy, so I don’t know-”

“Oh, no, no, I totally understand!” She quickly explained. “You can just tell her later that I stopped by to say hi.”

She moved over and started inspecting the cases of desserts.

“Oh, wow, these all look so amazing! How much of this did Chell make?” She looked up at him.

“Uh, well-”

“Ooo what’s that?” She interrupted, pointing at the case without touching the glass.

“Oh, those are our Turret Cookies,” He said proudly.

“What’s in them?”

He smirked. “Well, I’m not really supposed to tell you. Let’s just say they’re an ‘explosive favorite.’”

The smile dropped from her face and she looked up at him with a cold expression.

“Well,” She said, her tone much more serious. “How about ‘let’s just say’ I have severe food allergies and you’re now legally required to tell me. What’s in them?”

Wheatley blanched, suddenly afraid. “P-Pop Rocks,” He stammered.

Her face lit up again and her cheery tone returned as if nothing had happened. “Ooo, that sounds cool!”

She stared at the cookies for a few more moments before looking back up at Wheatley, who still looked frightened.

“So where are you from?”

“Uh, Bristol, actually-”

“Really? That’s so cool!” She interrupted. “Also, how do you get your hair like that? How tall are you? Oh! Also, when was the last time you shaved?”

“Uhh-”

“Mari!”

He turned to see Chell appear from the back, looking surprised to see her friend.

“I thought I heard the sound of you interrogating someone.” She said, leaning over the counter to hug her friend. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you know,” Mari shrugged. “I thought I’d drop by to see if your new job deserved you. Jury’s still out, by the way.”

Chell rolled her eyes, then turned to Wheatley. “Oh, Wheatley, this is Marisela. She’s-”

“I’m her best friend, always and forever, and don’t even think of trying to steal that spot from me,” Mari interrupted with a wink. “Call me Mari.” She stuck out a hand.

“Uh, alright,” He said, uncomfortably shaking her hand.

“And that’s pronounced ‘Mah-ree,’ in case you didn’t catch that.” She grinned. “My name isn’t Mary. Oh, also, Chell, you were right,” She said, turning to her friend. “He’s not my type. Oh!” Her face reddened and she turned back to Wheatley. “I’m so sorry, I meant no offense. I have a nasty habit of saying whatever’s on my mind.”

Wheatley waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, no, it’s quite alright.”

“I _told_ you he’s not.” Chell piped up. “Also, that’s a habit you two share. Maybe you should bond over it.”

“Are you trying to set us up?” Mari asked suspiciously. “Why Chell, I never thought I’d see the day.”

Chell scoffed. “Oh, God, no. You two would be a nightmare couple. _Endless_ chatter, ugh.” She shuddered turned back towards the kitchen. “It was nice seeing you, but I gotta get back. Feel free to buy anything,” She walked away, raising her hand in a casual wave behind her. “Try not to gossip about me.”

They both watched her leave and it was a few moments before Wheatley spoke up.

“Are you sure you’re her best friend?”

“Yeah, she’s just like that,” Mari explained. “Always has been. Ever since we were kids. We originally bonded over being the only non-white kids in class.” She sighed nostalgically. “Yep, it was her, me, and Stevie. Of course, Stevie turned out to be a major dick so we had to drop him.”

Wheatley decided not to ask for an explanation.

“We hung out so much that it got to the point where people assumed we were sisters. Twins, even. Which is ridiculous because we look nothing alike! I mean, she’s half-Japanese, for Christ’s sake, and I’m full-blown Peruvian! Tell me, do we look like sisters to you?”

“Oh, definitely not,” Wheatley said and meant it. “I mean, your facial structure is completely different, and you’re not even anywhere near each other in height-”

“Exactly! I’m 5’3” and she’s a frickin’ giant! Even in these heels, I don’t come close!” She gestured to her heels and sighed, a smile on her face. “I guess ‘giant’ is an exaggeration, she’s only 5’7”. Man, that was a sad day when she suddenly sprouted up like that. Of course, nowhere near as sad as when she had to leave.”

“Yeah, she mentioned something about that,” Wheatley commented.

Mari side-eyed him. “You must’ve forced her to talk, then.” She looked away, her energy dissipating a bit into sadness. “Yeah, her family moved around a lot for her dad’s work, so after elementary school we parted ways. But!” She turned back to him. “They moved back here for her senior year of high school, and we picked up right where we left off. It was like she’d never left! Except, of course, we’d both grown into _gorgeous_ heartbreakers,” She flipped her hair for dramatic effect and smiled like she was a movie star.

Wheatley raised his eyebrows, not sure how to respond.

“I’m kidding,” She said, her smile turning real as she laughed. “Well, I mean, we _are_ both gorgeous, dontcha think?”

“Uhh…” Wheatley trailed off uncomfortably.

Mari laughed. “You don’t have to answer that. We already know.” She winked. She checked her phone. “Well, I’d better get going. Promotions don’t earn themselves.”

“Uhh, good luck?” Wheatley said, still not sure how to react to her.

“Thanks!” She replied brightly, putting on her sunglasses. “Oh,” She turned back to him and lowered her sunglasses. “And you’ll definitely be seeing more of me,” She said, her tone serious.

She put them back and turned to leave, then stopped and turned back. “As in, I’ll be visiting here a lot. I wasn’t threatening you, just- Did I make that clear? Oh, shi- Don’t answer that, I’ve already ruined my exit.”

She shook her head in disappointment as she turned and actually left this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please tell me what you think!
> 
> It may be a while before chapter 3 is up. I have some plot points planned, but they're all stuff that can't happen till later :/
> 
> (Also, can you guess who Marisela is based off of? Hint: It's a Portal character)
> 
> Become a [beta](mailto:%20schneeprinzessin24@gmail.com)
> 
> Support me on [Patreon!](https://www.patreon.com/alexandriansight)


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